


Out of Reach

by castiels_feather



Series: Denver isn't Philly [3]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 00:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3189755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castiels_feather/pseuds/castiels_feather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claude is hurt and somebody has to tell Danny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of Reach

**Author's Note:**

> Good to know - on January 2nd, 2015, Claude Giroux suffered an injury when Carolina Hurricanes’ Justin Faulk’s skate grazed him close to his Achilles tendon. Thanks to wearing kevlar socks, his injury wasn’t serious and he ended up missing only one game.

Roy was on his way to the locker room to talk to the team, make the guys fired up for the third period and go through the tactics for one last time when he noticed Max checking his phone in the hallway. Seeing Max, who was usually a laughing ball of happiness and good mood, mutter _‘Oh no’_ and cover his mouth with his hand immediately raised huge red flags.

“What’s up, Max? Something wrong?”

“Yeah. No. Kinda, yes.” Stress made Max speak uncharacteristically fast and automatically revert to French. Considering who he was talking to, it didn’t matter. “I forgot to let my dog out so I stepped out to text my neighbor and-”

“Slow down, Max, you’re not making any sense.”

“Bottom line, per Flyers twitter, Claude suffered a nasty cut by a skate. It’s near the Achilles tendon and it looks bad. There’s no update yet. Danny’s gonna freak when he finds out. I mean, he’s not gonna show it - you know how he is - but I wouldn’t want to be inside his head when he hears the news.”

“What do you mean,” Roy frowned pensively. For a split second, Max’s face looked almost fond at the memory but then he quickly continued to explain.

“They were inseparable for years. The whole team made fun of them for being like an old couple. And as far as I know, they uh- keep in touch.”

“He cares about that kid a lot, doesn’t he.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Max said, weirdly serious.

Through the open door, Roy watched Danny chatting excitedly with Dutchy, probably about the plays they made on the goal and about coming up with a way to replicate their success. He squinted, pressed his lips together, like he was calculating something in his head. And he indeed was trying to predict the outcome of all possible scenarios. It took him all of a few seconds before he said, “I’ll tell you what. I know he’s a professional and I think he might be one of the most mentally resilient guys I’ve ever coached but why push it. Telling him now wouldn’t help anybody, Giroux included. Clear?”

“Yes, coach,” Max nodded but then his phone buzzed. “Wait, there’s an update! It says here that it isn’t serious and that he’ll even address the media. Thank god!”

“Good. Let’s not tell him anyway, now’s not the time. Please, keep it to yourself for now and we’ll tell him after the game. Okay, go join the guys.”

Max nodded and went off to find his stall.

+

After earning a 2-1 shootout victory, the mood in the locker room was cheerful and relieved.

“Good job, boys! Get some rest, see you tomorrow at 10.”

When the chatter in the locker room grew loud enough, Roy leaned down to Danny sitting on a bench.

“Danny, can I talk to you for a minute?” Roy mostly spoke English when addressing the crowd but it always felt more personal to speak the mother tongue when the opportunity arose.

“Yeah,” Danny said with a smile. He was still too drunk on the victory to be suspicious at that point. 

“Claude’s hurt,” Roy said once they were out of earshot.

Danny’s face went completely still and turned weirdly pale. Through the stiffness of Danny’s expression, Roy could see the feverish thinking that was going on in Danny’s head. _‘Wow, Max was not joking...’_ Realizing there’s no one around to keep the poker face up for, Danny broke and started fretting.

“What is it? How is he? Is it bad? It’s not the head, is it??” he almost pleaded. Danny could go the rest of his life without another concussion experience. There was hardly anything worse when it came to injuries.

“He’s fine. It turned out to be a shallow cut by a skate in the ankle area. Kevlar socks are an amazing thing. I waited to tell you until there was an update.”

Danny covered his face with his hands so his muttering _‘kevlar socks...’_ came out a little muffled. He then ran his hands through his hair like he used to when his hair was long enough to fall in his face.

“Thanks.” He looked pretty shaken. He still hasn’t completely gotten rid of the image of Del Zotto’s gashing neck wound. The thought of something like that happening to Claude made him sick to his stomach.

In an attempt to help Danny calm down, Roy clasped his hand on Danny’s shoulder and said, “Look, the kid’s fine, he’s one tough cookie. He talked to the media and he might even play the next game. Go call him but he’ll tell you the same thing I did.”

“Okay. Thanks anyway.”

“No problem,” Roy nodded, pressing his lips together, thereby revealing the dimple in his left cheek.

+

Max was about to leave when he walked by the locker room and noticed Danny sitting in his stall, still in his Under Armor shirt. He was clutching his phone in his hands more tightly than necessary and he was focused on watching something. Max approached him and without asking anything just looked over his shoulder.

“No, no, Danny…” Max admonished, taking the phone away from him. He was trying to imagine how many times Danny has seen the video of Claude obtaining his battle wound but he figured that even once was more than enough.

“He’s not picking up his phone,” Danny said flatly.

“He’ll call back, you’ll see.” Max said encouragingly. Danny laughed but it was a cold laughter of a person who is or might go crazy.

“You know,” he said, still half laughing, “a _pair of socks_ just probably saved his career?”

“Yeah, he was lucky. Fortune favors the prepared mind, no? Go home, he’ll call you as soon he can.”

Danny just nodded and gave Max a faint smile.

“Thanks, Max. See you tomorrow.”

“See ya’.”

+

Danny was on his way to his car when his phone finally rang. He dropped the bag with his gear and hastily reached for his phone.

“Claude??”

“Hey. So, I take it you know what happened,” Claude said in a tone of a child who was admitting to doing something bad, even though none of what’s happened was his fault.

“Man, don’t do that. Do you want me to get a heart attack?”

“Danny, Danny, calm down. I promise, it looked way worse than it actually was. I just panicked, that’s all.”

“ _You_ panicked?? You p-” Danny had to take a deep breath. There was a brief silence during which Danny was trying to convince himself that freaking out will not improve the situation. Much calmer, he continued, “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Me too. I got a couple of stitches, you know how it is. I’ve had worse. It’s hockey, it’s part of the game.”

“I know. I just hate being so far away, it makes me feel helpless. Not that I’d be able to help in any way but you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I get it. The doc will check up on me tomorrow and I’ll let you know how it looks,” Claude offered.

“Okay.” Danny looked around. Force of habit. “I miss you.”

Claude could see Danny’s sad face in front of him, he could feel Danny looking down at the ground like he always does during interviews after particularly bad games when he’s trying to hide sadness, anger or frustration. He knew that feeling well, after all.

“Miss you, too.” And with _‘bye’_ they both hung up.

_FIN_


End file.
